Friday, January 27, 2012
Map of the Invisible World.
It's been almost (I would say) over a year since I finished reading a book from cover to cover. Over the last three days, with the crappy internet connection and a vow to not check Twitter every half hour or so, I managed to finish reading this Tash Aw book. It's a good read, one of the few fiction books I've read in a while. His method of telling the story is simple and unobtrusive and I'm glad I got this for RM 15 at the MPH clearance sale. (Yay to sales! And good Malaysian writers currently residing in other continents) As for the plot, the "hanging" ending tells me that a good plot is always left to the reader's imagination.
(I imagine Margaret to look like a young Meryl Streep, and Adam, like one of Yasmin Ahmad's young actors)
When I was younger (and I'm sure when you were, too) I could read a 300-page book in a few days and devour a new read the following day. Now that I'm older I find reading an almost chore! Unbelievable. I love to read. How did I find the pleasure of reading diminished to such low levels, that I'd more often reach for the Instagram feed than for the many books? Has this phenomenon affected the younger generation?
Is screen-time taking away our page-time?